Cruel
by rowan-greenleaf
Summary: COMPLETE. Draco Malfoy -you know, the Slytherin sex god and prince regent of Hogwarts? Yeah, that one- he's a bastard. She thought she knew that. She was wrong.
1. Love Will Abide

**Author's Note:** This was originally intended to be a one-shot, a snippet of writing inspired by a rather maudlin song. Enter a certain reader and fellow author who just wouldn't let it go at that ; ) So, here it is. Readers we warned, this fic is smutty, crude, and well, _cruel._ Don't let that stop you from reading and REVIEWING, though.

Dedicated to **MalfoyDebauchery**! As always, my thanks to Gracie, **mmoxxie**, for beta-reading. And now without further ado...

* * *

**Cruel**

_Love will abide,_

_Take things in stride_

_And time washes clean_

_love's wounds unseen._

_That's what someone told me,_

_But I don't know what it means_

'_Cause I've done everything I know_

_To make you mine_

_And I think I'm gonna love you_

_For a long, long time_

_I can't say you hurt me, when you never let me near_

_And I never drew one response from you_

'_Cause I've done everything I know_

_To try and make you mine_

_And I think it's gonna hurt me_

_For a long, long time._

-- Linda Ronstadt

**XXX**

She was tired.

Tired of waking up and thinking of him, tired of walking down the stairs and thinking of him. Of eating, breathing, living _him_. Tired of pining over someone who hadn't the least bit interest in her, who was just as beautiful as he was cruel.

But the platinum blond object of her suffering seemed to be attuned to her, in some odd way. He ignored her insistently during meals, when he met her in the hallways, or when he flew around the pitch, but he seemed to know the precise moment when she was at breaking point, when she was about to struggle and break free from the thin web he seemed to have wound around her.

Just when she was about to try to move on, he would do something to draw her in again. A glance her way, a raised eyebrow. He would look straight into her with those stunning mercury eyes of his, as if he could pierce through every layer of her and see through to the very essence of her fragile being.

Soon, however, even that wasn't enough. She was hooked on him like a drug, and looks would not suffice. There once was a time she would have curled up and died of happiness with the knowledge that his silvery grey eyes followed her out of the Great Hall. Now she needed something more.

He seemed to understand this.

**XXX**

The blow had knocked the wind out of her, had left her slightly dazed and seeing stars. When Ginny opened her eyes again she realized she was lying on her back, on the stone floor of the hallway, and there was something heavy –Harry, her mind processed a second later— laying across her chest and effectively blocking her intake of air.

Looking up, Ginny saw a pair of beautifully polished shoes of obviously high quality a few steps away from her face. As her eyes continued to travel upwards she saw the exquisite cut of the grey trousers, how they seemed to fit his form perfectly, as if they'd been made on him- which in fact they had been.

Further up, it was impossible to miss the way his oxford shirt hung elegantly on his lean torso, even under the grey jumper. The beautiful forearms, exposed by his halfway rolled up sleeves, the green and silver tie hanging loosely at the neck, and finally, that face. That face that was of an exquisite beauty, framed by fair hair, which was not tied back as was usual but hung loose in all its splendor over the broad shoulders. It was tousled, too, as if someone, perhaps a lover, had run their fingers through it desperately.

Ginny's eyes locked with the stunningly grey ones that beheld her coolly. Those eyes seemed to pierce to the very core of her being. He was looking down at her expressionlessly.

And then quite suddenly he did a completely unexpected thing; he extended an arm, with his accustomed grace, and pointed towards the distance. Ginny's eyes followed his finger, almost of their own accord. He continued to look down at her for a moment and then turned his exquisite face slowly in the direction his finger was pointing.

Standing there, unmoving, with the graceful lines of his young body and his exceptional, cruel beauty, he reminded Ginny of Michelangelo's David.

And then he spoke.

"I see London," he said, peering into the distance as if he really could.

Confused, Ginny didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. He turned his beautiful face and looked down at her, meeting her eyes, as his hand came down slowly to rest on his slender hip.

"I see France…"

_Uh-oh_, was all Ginny had the presence of mind to think.

"I see Weasley's… UNDERPANTS!" a chorus of laughter broke out over the hall, for indeed the hallways were lined with people to bear witness of her humiliation. Of course. "And they're bright pink with little green dots on them!" he added, smirking.

It was true.

Ginny had long since crossed her legs shut, but it was too late.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy!" Harry demanded sitting up, and two bright pink spots of anger tinted his cheeks.

"I'm going to kill that stupid git!" Ron was bellowing, restrained by Hermione and Neville.

But Draco was not impressed. His eyes continued to bore into the brown eyes of the girl. Ginny Weasley, humiliated, glaring up at him with all her might.

"I _hate_ you, Draco Malfoy," she spat, her eyes burning with angry tears.

"No," he said confidently. "You don't."

Smirking, he turned and walked away, flanked by his minions, Crabbe and Goyle.

Ginny watched him walk away as Harry and Hermione helped her to her feet. The brunette and Harry had been racing to the Gryffindor common room, laughing and jeering at each other blindly, and had run into Ginny at full speed, crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

"It's not true, Ginny," Hermione said quietly, biting her lip. "Your underpants didn't show. Nobody saw them. Malfoy was just being a git."

"I know," Ginny said, wiping bitter tears from her eyes. "I know, Mione."

But this knowledge was of no comfort to her; her panties might not have shown now, but Draco Malfoy had cause to know the exact colors and patterns on them. Her hand went to her left pocket, her fingers clasping around the black band that usually held his hair back. It still had his scent, like fresh parchment and vanilla.

"That bastard," Ginny sobbed angrily. "I really _do_ hate him."


	2. Slow Hands

**Cruel**

**Chapter 2: Slow Hands**

_Yeah but nobody searches  
And nobody cares somehow  
when the loving that you've wasted  
comes raining from a hapless cloud_

_  
then I might stop and look upon your face  
disappear in the sweet, sweet gaze  
see the living that surrounds me  
dissipate in a violet blaze_

_Can't you see what you've done to my heart  
and soul?  
This is a wasteland now_

_I submit my incentive is romance  
I watch the pole dance of the stars  
We rejoice because the hurting is so painless  
from the distance of passing cars_

_  
But I am married to your charms and grace  
I just go crazy like the good old days  
You make me want to pick up a guitar  
and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you_

_We spies, we slow hands  
You put the weights all around yourself  
We spies, oh yeah we slow hands  
We retire like nobody else_

_  
We spies, intimate slow hands  
killer for hire you know not yourself  
we spies, intimate slow hands  
You let the face slap around herself_

--Interpol

**XXX**

The truth was Draco Malfoy had reason to be confident in his belief that Ginny Weasley did not hate him; she had all but shouted and interpretive danced her feelings for him during the course of the last six years.

It all started with discreet looks when she thought he wasn't watching. Draco ignored her at first; amused more than flattered. At some point he started looking back. His stormy grey eyes would meet hers over the rim of his goblet and would not look away, even when she flushed a red as dark as her hair. His face would remain expressionless.

This was nothing new for Draco. It was a game he had played with many girls in the course of his years at Hogwarts because, simply put, he was beautiful and he was a slut.

It was the Veela blood. Add to that the fact that he was Quidditch team captain. He was head boy. He was rich. He was a sarcastic, insulting, arrogant, and insufferable bastard. He was, in a word, irresistible. For this reason girls practically threw their panties at him on a daily basis. Draco ate girls like Ginny for breakfast. Sometimes literally.

He liked to believe that his tastes were impeccable, but the truth was he was a 17 year old boy surrounded by girls who threw themselves at him constantly. Some of them were even pretty and it was more or less expected of him to maintain his reputation as the Slytherin sex god. This implied having sex- lots of it; just another thing he was good at. Somewhere along the line Draco became less discriminating of who he got involved with.

To get to the sex you had to first fondle the girl. The Weasley girl was pretty. She was curvy, she had some meat on her, something he had always liked for some odd reason. Her vibrant red hair was striking and her eyes, brown like mud or like dark chocolate, sparkled with intelligence, something Draco appreciated above all else. So he fondled her.

It had only been a matter of time, really. Ginny Weasley was a sixth year prefect, and on one chilly, rainy night both she and Draco had their rounds to make. At some point, their paths crossed in a dark hallway.

An empty broom closet. The knowledge that he could, and that if he did, he was quite possibly making her wildest dream come true.

Draco had ripped her shirt open, unclasping her flimsy pink bra with nimble fingers. He had cupped her full, round breasts and suckled on them greedily. She smelled like strawberries. His hands had worked their way under her pleated skirt. She had moaned, despite the fact that Draco knew she tried not to. No words had been exchanged.

He had not kissed her, though he could see in her eyes that she wanted it above all else. Maybe that's why he didn't touch her plump, rosy lips, though he wanted it too.

When he was so hard that his erection didn't swing when he walked, Draco had abruptly stopped, taking a step away from her. He took the time to straighten his tie and run a hand through his fair hair before walking out of the small space.

He knew that if he turned to look back at her, he would see her confused, flushed, heaving and humiliated. Her shirt would be half on, her lovely breasts bare in the cool air. But Draco did not look back. He left without a word, walked down to the Slytherin dungeons, burst into Pansy's room, and fucked the living daylights out of her.

"You carrying that around for me?" she inquired with faux nonchalance, when she saw his arousal. Draco snorted, but did not bother to correct her: _No Pansy, not for you. This was for Weasley…_

Draco did not understand his own actions, nor did he care to analyze them.

Two weeks had passed and the girl was trying her best to pretend to ignore him. Her efforts were laughable. So he laughed at her, walking off the Quidditch pitch with his blond hair tousled by the wind. She gripped her broom tightly but did not look back at him.

A few days later the schedule was inverted; Gryffindor had Quidditch practice first and Slytherin was to follow. Suited up in his gear, Draco ignored the red haired girl entirely as he walked by her, flanked by his teammates.

He sauntered out to the middle of the pitch, adjusting his fingerless black gloves, and barked out orders for the exercise drills. He observed wordlessly as his team took to the sky, his pewter colored eyes fastening onto the form of Jonas Flint. The fifth year beater was still favoring his left and leaving the right side of the field wide open. Draco would have to speak to him about that -again.

His patience had a limit, one that he was rapidly approaching. If Flint didn't clean up his act soon, Draco would kick him off his team, regardless of who his older brother was.

A few minutes later, when the players were immersed in their exercises, Draco slipped away unnoticed and headed towards the changing rooms. They were empty, save for one person.

Ginny, who was tying her long red hair into a ponytail at the top of her head, stiffened visibly when Draco entered the room. She pretended not to notice him, however, as he stood there with his arms folded across his chest, observing her.

She wore a form-fitting pair of worn jeans and a black t-shirt and looked pretty, as per usual. Draco considered telling her so, but brushed the thought away.

"Ginevra." It was the first time he had ever spoken directly to her.

She continued to ignore him, although he knew the use of her given name must have caused a great impression on her. Draco had never said the word out loud, and found he liked it.

Ginny was still gathering her things as if he hadn't spoken, but the gentle trembling in her hands didn't go unnoticed by Draco.

When she was finished, she zipped her duffel bag and swung it over her left shoulder as she started to walk past him. Draco's right arm snaked out so quickly she didn't realize what had happened until his fingers had closed around her slender wrist.

She turned flashing eyes on him and her face flushed an angry red that was very becoming.

"What do you want?" she demanded roughly as Draco looked down into her face, his expression inscrutable.

"You," he said calmly, meeting her eyes.

Ginny's brown eyes widened and her jaw went slack as she looked up into his face, shock evident in her lovely features. They were so close he could catch her scent distinctly. It was something like strawberries and the faint, musky scent of sweat from her exertions in Quidditch practice. Draco found that it was not unpleasant. Quite the contrary.

He continued to look into her eyes a while longer and then let go of her wrist unceremoniously. He was conscious of her eyes pinned to his back as he walked to the door.

"Meet me in the Room of Requirement," he said, turning his beautiful profile to her briefly. "Before dinner." Ginny remained frozen in place as he walked away, not bothering to wait for her answer.

Once the practice session was done, Draco took Jonas Flint aside and berated him severely. He was satisfied with the boy's obvious chagrin. After addressing the rest of the team, he went back to his room and showered slowly, changing into fresh clothes.

He arrived at the Room of Requirement some minutes before dinner time, wondering vaguely if the girl would show.

She did.

Although he remained impassive, sitting in the center of the room with his legs crossed at the knees, Draco's heart rate accelerated when she let herself in, looking obviously nervous.

After observing her in silence for some minutes, he stood and approached her lazily, enjoying the look of fear and excitement in her brown eyes.

After years of dreaming of the feel of Draco Malfoy's mouth on hers, Ginny Weasley finally got to experience it and was surprised to find that it was actually better than she had imagined it would be.

Draco held her firmly by the waist and pressed her to him, his mouth clamping down on hers, devouring her lips as his tongue thrust in, leisurely exploring her as if she were uncharted territory. His hand on the back of her neck drew her head back, opening her to him, and with her body so close to his she could feel every line of him against her. It was to be the best kiss of her entire life.

Ginny could feel his erection, which was straining through the front of his trousers, pressed against her mid-section and was surprised that she actually had this effect on him. Emboldened, Ginny did something she had always dreamed of doing: she reached up and released his fair hair from the band that held it back, watching with barely concealed awe as the silky, silvery blond locks fell onto his shoulders.

There had been no preamble, no words exchanged. Ginny had allowed herself to be undressed, relieved when he paused to remove his own garments.

Ginny was surprised to see the Dark Mark that branded Draco's left forearm, but did not comment. It was something that had been whispered about throughout the school since mid-year, but nobody had actually confirmed seeing the proof: Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater.

Ginny felt no fear or revulsion as she lay back on the bed. The outbreak of war was inevitable, and now that he had chosen a side -the wrong one, to be sure- Draco was supposed to be her enemy. Ginny found that she could not care less. All that mattered was that she was here with him now, like this. She had dreamed of this so many times, and it was just as good as she'd imagined, if not more.

Draco was unspeakably beautiful, even more so when he was naked, and his hands seemed to know the exact way to touch her. She was briefly embarrassed by how wet she was when his fingers slid up between her thighs, but her shame dissolved when Draco licked his finger clean. When he kissed her again, she could taste herself on his lips, and again, found herself unperturbed by this.

And then she was lying under him, bracing her hands on his broad shoulders as he positioned himself on her. Draco entered her roughly; a girl like that wouldn't be a virgin. The delicious tightness that met his thrust, the tension in Ginny's body and the cry of pain that escaped her parted lips told Draco he'd been wrong.

He did not relent, however, and meeting her startled brown eyes with his icy gray ones, drove himself further into her with a barely contained gasp, until he felt her maidenhead break.

For one tense moment, Draco feared he would climax then and there. Gods, she was so sweet. He had had virgins before, but never anything like this. _No one_ was like this.

He concentrated and willed himself to relax, calling on his vast reserve of Malfoy self-control. Draco's subsequent movements were gentler, his hips rocking softly against hers until he felt her relax and begin to respond. Finally she began to raise her hips to meet his, and her nails were no longer digging painfully into his arms. The pain turned into heat, and a delicious, urgent aching. She found she could no longer remain silent.

Draco met Ginny's eyes once again, and she saw that the mercury depths were dark, darker than she'd ever seen them, with desire. His beautiful lips were quirked into a faint satisfied smirk when he realized she was enjoying this too.

Ginny's moans became gradually louder, her fingers raking through Draco's hair as he continued to pound into her. His thrusts became harder and faster, harder and faster until she came, with a great shudder and a sob, his name on her lips.

It was then he allowed himself his own brutal climax, grasping her hips tightly as his movements became more erratic.

He collapsed onto her, spent, and allowed her to brush his hair away from his flushed, sweaty face. Draco had been told he was beautiful in moments like these, and some remote corner of his mind registered the fact that this was true about Ginny, as well.

She looked lovely, glowing with the flush of sex, her wild red hair contrasting beautifully with the paleness of her soft skin. Draco observed her for a moment, lying next to him, still trembling.

He did not stay long, however, kicking the sheets away from his body and rising to his feet. Ginny's eyes were on him as he dressed, and soon she rose and began to do the same. Draco noted the liquid grace of her movements, her limbs light with the looseness of a thoroughly fucked body. He allowed himself a small smirk.

When he was fully dressed, Draco walked towards the door and turned to look at her. Ginny was refusing to look at him again, and gauging by the look in her face she would begin to cry at any moment.

"Keep it," he said, when he saw the black hair band he usually wore now clasped between her small fingers. He turned and walked away, not looking towards her again.

Barely twenty minutes later, he encountered her again in the hallway, lying on the ground like a felled flower. The scent of her, wild strawberries, still lingered under his clothes, like a second skin.

Draco didn't know what compelled him to be cruel to her. Maybe it was the look in her eyes. Fierceness and submission. Love and pain. Hope and disappointment.

**XXX**

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Note: This is the back-story to chapter 1, obviously, so that no one feels left out. ; ) The action will resume in chapter 3. **PLEASE REVIEW  
**


	3. The Bonds of Love

**Note: **For those of you who require a soundtrack to every chapter- looks pointedly at** Ashley **;P** -**the song for this is "Snow (Hey oh)" by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. It's what I was listening to when I wrote this, and oddly it fits perfectly.

* * *

**Cruel**

**Chapter Three: The Bonds of Love**

'_Touch not the nettle, for the bonds of love are ill to loose…' _

_She had not realized till lately how ill they were to loose, these bonds of love. But thank heaven she had loosened them…_

--DH Lawrence (Lady Chatterley's Lover)

**XXX**

She went through her activities mechanically, barely noting the passage of time. Classes, Quidditch, cramming for tests. When spring arrived she was actually surprised; her sixth year had passed so quickly.

In the course of the preceding months, Ginny had made some important changes in her life.

She had resigned from her prefect duties with the excuse of wanting to dedicate more time to certain academic projects.

"I just can't handle the weekly prefect meetings," she'd told the headmaster quite truthfully; the meetings were, of course, preceded by Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore had nodded thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling from behind his spectacles, but had not commented, not even when she asked to be excused from informing the Head Boy herself, as was customary in these cases.

She no longer sat at what had been her spot at the Gryffindor table, in between Hermione and Colin and directly in the line of vision of a certain platinum blond, several tables away.

No, Ginny sat at the far end of the table now, next to her boyfriend, Seamus Finnigan.

Seamus, with his easy smile, rugged good looks and imperturbable cheer, was a far cry from the exquisitely beautiful Slytherin and his mercurial moods.

Ginny and Seamus looked good together, or so everyone said. Seamus was _kind_ to her, he made her ''happy''. They'd become intimate a few weeks ago after nearly half a year of dating, and Seamus had been surprised to discover she wasn't a virgin. He hadn't asked any embarrassing questions however -something Ginny was grateful for- and seemed to take it all in stride.

Sex with Seamus was completely different than what she had experienced with Draco. As in everything else, the Irishman was sweet and kind to her, but he didn't make the blood burn within her veins, he didn't make her shamelessly wet with a single glance in her direction, and he certainly didn't make her sob her release with his name on her lips. All these things Ginny pondered in secret when they made love, ashamed of herself for doing so.

And yet it seemed inevitable. Despite her best efforts, her only experience in bed with Draco Malfoy had been engraved as if by fire in her memory. And despite her best efforts to move on and be happy, Ginny knew that somewhere inside of her she was still crying. Over him.

But she hid this carefully from Seamus and Draco, and most of all from herself. She pretended not to notice when she felt his piercing eyes regarding her persistently from across the room at meals. She pretended not to notice when the Prince of Slytherin walked by, holding hands with Pansy Parkinson, admittedly one of the prettiest witches in school. Ginny herself numbered among this group, for all the good it had done her.

Time continued to pass. One summer afternoon near the end of term found her alone in the aviary, feeding Pigwidgeon some carrots she had slipped into her pocket during lunch.

As often happened when she was alone, Ginny thought of Draco and quite suddenly she heard his lovely, deep voice from behind her.

"That's mine, you know," he said softly. Ginny turned around to find him leaning casually against a wooden column, his arms folded across his chest. Her heart caught at how beautiful Draco was, how achingly beautiful.

"Sorry?" Ginny asked, surprised at her own boldness in addressing him.

"That hair band you're wearing," Draco said, his pewter colored eyes regarding her steadily.

It took Ginny a moment to realize he was talking about the black band, the one she had taken out of his hair and now wore everyday, tied around her wrist or holding back her own mass of long hair.

"Oh," she said, blushing. Pausing to set down the piece of carrot she held in between her fingers -at which Pig hooted reprovingly- Ginny reached up and undid her ponytail in one swift motion. Her glorious fiery red hair went tumbling down her back, shimmering in unbroken waves to her waist.

"Here," she said, extending the black band towards him with a surprisingly steady hand. Her heart was beating wildly, but she was perfectly still.

Draco observed her calmly, amusement lighting his perfectly symmetrical face. His eyes lingered on her hair for a moment, then went to her face, which was set with defiance.

"Keep it. I just wanted to see your hair down," he said, enjoying the look of shock displayed briefly over her lovely features.

"I hate you," Ginny said softly. "I really do."

Draco laughed, the bastard, and took a few steps towards her. "No," he said, when he was closer to her than what was considered socially proper. "You don't."

She caught his scent, the one she dreamed enveloped her when she made love with her boyfriend, and flushed with self loathing and shame. "Why?" she asked angrily. "Why do you do this to me?"

"I don't know," Draco answered softly, looking down into her face and meeting her eyes. "Why do you let me?"

Ginny's brown eyes had filled with tears, but she didn't bother to wipe away at them, still clutching the black band between her now trembling fingers.

"I don't know," she whispered, through her tears. _Because I hate myself, and I feel I deserve your loathing?_

"For what it's worth, Ginevra," Draco said quietly, using her given name for the second time. "You were the sweetest fuck I've ever had. Nobody else comes close."

Ginny stared at him in silence. She hated herself more than ever in that instant, hated herself because she wanted nothing more than to close the small distance between them and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to beg him to love her as she did him.

"I hope you die," she said bitterly.

Draco laughed again, a mocking, bitter sort of laugh. "You'll get your wish, eventually. Just like the first one," he said, smiling. She had never seen him smile before. He was beautiful.

The black band had fallen to the floor. Draco observed it for a moment before turning away. He walked out of the aviary, and paused at the entrance, the flapping of birds' wings in his ears and the scent of Ginny Weasley still lingering, it seemed to him.

"Goodbye, Ginevra," Draco said, using her given name for the third and final time. She watched the sun shining white in his long fair hair as he walked away.

A week later, classes ended and Ginny went home for the summer before her seventh year. She saw Draco on the train back to London but pretended not to notice, though she felt his intense eyes on her as she walked by holding hands with Seamus.

Some weeks later the war broke out. Draco Malfoy, secret member of the Order of the Phoenix, was among the first to be killed by the Dark Lord.

Ginny read the news of his death and wept bitterly into her pillow, her body jerking with the violence of her desperate sobs.

She saw the image of him. Draco…so beautiful, so young, so _alive_. He was standing in the sunlight, his fair hair shining white, his stunning pewter colored eyes squinting against the sun, looking at her calmly.

"I _hate_ you," she gasped, her chest swelling to the point of breaking with grief. The black hair band was clutched between her fingers, but his scent had faded from it, a long time ago.

**fin.**

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**PLEASE REVIEW. **

Angry rants are welcome, as are questions and comments!

If you're seriously depressed go read my D/G one-shot **Draco and Ginny, Sittin' in a Tree** and I guarantee you will be smiling by the end of it! ;)

* * *

Ok, I've gotten enough questions to justify this explanation: that was, in fact, the END.

1.That song at the beginning of chapter 1 is a summary for the entire fic: he _never_ let her near.

2. Draco died. He knew he was probably going to, because of his work for the good guys.

For this reason he never let Ginny in, emotionally. He was subconsciously being _cruel_ to her to keep her away, because he really, really liked her. If he had let her in, he knew he would fall in love with her, and then he wouldn't have been able to do what he had to do.

3. The "cruel" part of the fic is that he had to sacrifice himself, and so they couldn't be together. He really wasn't a bastard after all. I hope this clears things up.


End file.
